Jonsa Spring Blossoms 2019
by purinsesu-sereniti
Summary: my collection of submissions to tumblr's jonsa spring blossoms week.
1. Chapter 1 - Flowers

It was early morning and he had woken from a dream of spring.

He'd been walking through the gardens of Winterfell abloom, the sun high in the clear blue sky. There, at the very center, had she stood, like a beacon calling out to him. A crown of wildflowers were woven like a crown on her head, petals falling down the light blue gown she wore. He loved that gown, even in the dream he knew that he did. _Sansa... _Her name had been on his lips, a familiar sound that offered him comfort even to his sleeping mind. She had smiled upon him in the dream, opening her arms to embrace him, her body warm and solid, a reminder of the waking world. He pulled a single blue rose free from its bush behind her, offering it to her, if only to watch her face light up with another smile.

The moment Jon woke, he dressed, pulling on the cloak she'd painstakingly made for him before the long winter, the pads of his fingers brushing the direwolves stamped into the worn leather. Down the corridors he went, out into the courtyard, but his feet took him another path rather than to the stables or towards the godswood. Instead, he walked along the outer gate and into what once had been the gardens he'd dreamed of. Every inch of it was covered in a sheet of ice and yet he still could not help but to marvel at the beauty of it. The winter roses had once bloomed there in these very gardens, but then the true cold came and even wiped those away. Jon found himself longing to see the blue roses, to inhale their sweet scent, and to tuck one or two into beautiful red hair.

Spring was coming though so he supposed it'd not be long he would have to wait. Everyday they came a little bit closer. The snow had begun to melt beneath the warm winter sun and no longer did the cold snatch the breath from a man's lungs. In truth it was becoming quite like it used to be, before the long winter had ever come.

He was reminded of his childhood winters, where he and his brothers would wrestle in the snow and laugh when Arya pelted them with snowballs. He remembered how it felt to throw an arm around Robb as they walked back to Winterfell, tired and out of breath, but happy just to be with him. It wasn't all that long ago that he thought he would never again be as happy as he was then. Jon missed Robb terribly some days… So much so that it hurt. He missed Rickon too, the little brother that he had failed. He could not help but to think of what it would be like if they were still alive, or at least if Robb's wife and child had lived beyond the wedding feast. Would the child look like a Stark? Or even a Tully? Robb always had favored his mother looks, after all. Or would it have looked like its mother, a beauty they said, though foreign. And little Rickon... He'd be growing into a man now. Jon would have smiled upon him when he found his first love and maybe even married her someday. Shaggydog would play in the courtyard with Ghost and perhaps even Nymeria would have someday rejoined them with pups along with her.

"Lost in thought, are you?"

Turning at the sound of a voice, Jon could not stop himself from smiling as his eyes fell upon her. She was bright-eyed in the morning sunlight, her red hair a stark contrast to her black cloak. "Thinking of our family." He admitted as she stepped closer, his own arms winding around her as she fell into place against him. For several long moments he held fast to her, breathing in her sweet scent, ever thankful that she was there for him to hold. "I miss them." She drew back then, a gloved hand reaching up to tenderly touch his cheek, her rosy lips torn between a frown and a smile. Of all people, she understood his pain.

"As do I," she spoke softly, her voice catching as she too thought of the brothers left behind, of the mother and father she no longer had. "But we still have each other." She reminded him with a nod, her hand sliding down to press against his heart, the beat of it strong against her palm. "We have Arya and Bran." It was his turn to nod, his own hand coming up to catch hers. "Come... Arya was already talking about a sparring match." She rolled her eyes, but her smile was easy-going, those same eyes twinkling. Jon chuckled, his hand in hers as they made their way back towards Winterfell, where sure enough Arya already stood with Needle in hand.

Sansa let his hand slip free from her own, watching as he strode confidently towards the girl he would always call _little sister. _She could not stop herself from smiling as she watched him pull her into a tight embrace, laughing at something she said. Across the way, Brienne stood beside Jaime, their shoulders brushing as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. For the first time in as long as she could remember, everything felt right. Everyone was happy, truly happy. Her family had been broken apart, nearly destroyed, but they had pulled the pieces back together and found happiness again. Soon, it would be spring and everything would be green and lush again, even the winter roses would bloom again soon. Jon had promised her the night before the battle with the Night King that he would bring them to her the day they bloomed again and she knew that day would come sooner than they all thought.

And for that, she was oh so happy.

[ x x x ]

When she woke a few days later, Sansa rolled onto her side and there on the table just across the way was a bouquet of beautiful blue roses. Her heart swelled and she rose up from the bed to stand before the table, gingerly brushing her fingertips across the delicate petals. Against the vase he'd put them in, a folded up parchment leaned, and she raised it up so she could read the words he'd written across it.

_Spring is here. _

A smile touched her lips and she turned to the other wall, where her newest gown hung from a peg. Jon had brought her the bolt of fabric from King's Landing just weeks before, a beautiful pale blue silk she'd insisted was too much for her. But he'd grinned and said nothing was too much for her, for his queen. _Queen... _still yet the word tasted funny on her tongue. As a child, she'd dreamed of nothing but a crown of her own and now that it was hers it almost sounded wrong. Even so, she'd done as Jon had bid and made herself a new gown with the fabric, promising only to wear it when spring came again. As he'd promised to bring her the beautiful roses, she promised a gown, and so she dressed herself in the blue silk and braided her hair and pinned it into place as she did every morning.

Making her way down to the main hall, she found him already there, as if waiting for her. He could barely catch his breath as he caught sight of her in the blue silk gown, her dark cloak draped over her arm and a radiant smile upon her face. "You're like a dream." He said as he approached her, his compliment sending a rush of heat to her cheeks. "Like a dream of spring." This time she laughed and swatted at him playfully. "You're missing something though," he admitted, drawing back to inspect her closely, his dark eyes finding hers as she frowned. From his cloak pocket, he pulled a single winter bloom and reached for her then, carefully tucking the rose into her hair, the color vibrant against the red. "There." He grinned before he pulled her close and kissed her deeply. "Now... You're perfect."

Sansa smiled and opened her mouth to speak, but the door behind them opened and in came the first of the servants to bring in their morning meal. Soon, all of the others would begin to join them too. They only had a few more mornings together like this before things began to change, before Jon would be crowned King of the Iron Throne and she his queen. They would go to King's Landing for a time, but he promised they'd return to Winterfell as often as she pleased. No King before had lived anywhere but King's Landing, but this would be a new reign quite unlike any King before him.

Taking their seats at the head table, Sansa smiled as Arya came into the room, her dark-eyed little sister taking her place beside Jon. Bran came next, his spot on her other side. They were the last surviving Starks, the last three true born children of Eddard and Catelyn Stark and the one time bastard of Winterfell. Touching the flower Jon had tucked into her hair, she could not help but to smile. Their dream of spring had finally come true.


	2. Chapter 2 - Godswood

Day 2 (Saturday 16th): picnic / garden / godswood

She found him in the godswood, as she knew she would.

He sat alone, his dark cloak dusted with snow. For a moment, she stood on the outskirts looking in, wondering if it were right of her to disturb him. But then, almost as if he sensed her presence there, Jon looked up and their eyes met. And so she walked the short distance across the snowy landscape, dropping down onto the ground beside him without a word. For what could have been hours or days, they did not speak, but Sansa felt the touch of his hand to the top of her head, and she leaned in, pressing her cheek to his knee. His hand did not stray from her hair, in fact she could feel his fingertips as they absently sifted through her long red locks, worn loose from their usual braids.

Sansa wished that she could find the words to say to him- she couldn't imagine feeling what he felt, after all. She knew how desperately Jon had wanted to be a Stark, to be more than the bastard of Winterfell. And now, he wasn't even that. But more than that... Jon was far from a bastard, more than any trueborn son. He was a prince, he was the heir to the Iron Throne. His father would have been King, had he lived. Jon's mother was her own aunt Lyanna, and so gone were their sibling ties. Though they may have shared the same blood, it was not of a father, but of a cousin. And she knew well this would not be what he wanted from life. He'd hardly wanted to be called King in the North, let alone King of the Iron Throne. She felt for him, she truly did. To live your whole life as one person only to be told you aren't who you thought you were? _No, _she reminded herself with the smallest of smiles, _he's still just Jon. _It didn't matter who his father had been or not been- he was still a Stark. She loved him for who he was, not who he was told he was.

"They say she loved to ride."

Jon's voice broke into her thoughts and Sansa tipped her head back to look up at him. Brown eyes met blue and Sansa's heart skipped a beat when he smiled. "My mother. They said she loved to ride horses," he repeated, looking off towards Winterfell. "That she was the best there was, even among the men."

"Father said she had a touch of wild in her... And that Arya is just like her, even in looks." Sansa smiled too, thinking of her headstrong little sister. "You must look like her, you know." Jon looked back at her then, his dark eyes widening slightly. "You and her both look the part of a Stark more than the rest of us." This was true. Both he and Arya shared similar features, from their dark hair, small dark eyes, and long, oval faces. He sighed then, drawing his hand from her hair and leaning forward on his knees, staring out across the woods. Sansa wondered how she'd missed it all these years, looking up into her aunt Lyanna's stone statue down in the crypts. Though, he did indeed look to be a true born son of Ned Stark, so like him in appearance and manner, it was easy to accept him as his bastard. "It doesn't change anything." She suddenly spoke up, breaking the silence that had descended. He looked down at her, brow arched. "You're still Jon, you're still a Stark. I don't care who your father truly was. I don't care if he was a Targaryen or a Tully or a Lannister. You're always going to be Jon to me. Winterfell will always be your home." She watched as his features changed, surprise and then relief, which even that then faded away to be replaced with his easy going smile.

And then he was on his feet, offering her a hand to help her up. Taking his hand, they both felt the electric shock as skin met skin, the tingles sending chills down her spine. Sansa blinked and Jon never looked away, though he parted his lips as if he meant to speak. The moment she was up, he was pulling her close, winding his arms around her like he'd never done before. She yielded to his embrace there beneath the heart tree, her own arms snaking around his waist as he drew her in as close as possible. His grip was warm and strong as he pressed his face into her neck, holding to her as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded. For several long moments they merely held onto one another until he finally drew back, eyes wet but his lips curved with a smile. "Thank you, Sansa," he murmured softly, one hand reaching out to stroke the petal soft skin of her cheek. He could not put to words how thankful he was for her, for how happy he was whenever she was near. She was blushing beneath his touch, her typically pale cheeks full of warmth and color, her blue eyes shining in the dying winter light. Soon it would be night and Jon knew they should return.

So he took her by the hand and together they walked back through the godswood, back towards home. It was as she had said... Winterfell would always be his home... But Jon knew, anywhere she was, that was home.


	3. Chapter 4 - Reunion

The closer the gates of Castle Black came, the more nervous she became.

She could not help but to feel uneasy; it had been years since she'd last saw Jon, would he even know who she was? Would he even care to see her? They had not been exactly... close... as children. In truth, when Sansa thought about it, she had been downright mean to him most of the time. There was a part of her that wouldn't blame him if he turned her away at the gate, for she probably would have as well. And yet... She shuddered to think what she would do if he did such a thing. Certainly she now had Lady Brienne to protect her... But in a world with Ramsay Bolton as Warden of the North and Cersei Lannister as Queen of the Iron Throne, she would never again be safe.

"Open the gates!"

The cry from the guard went out and Sansa kicked her horse back into movement, following close behind Brienne, her heart pounding. Slowing to a stop, she slid from her horse and cast her gaze around, her knees shaking beneath her gown. She was tired and bruised, near frozen from her days in the tundra, though Brienne had done her best to ensure she got warm again. Though part of her suspected she'd never be warm again. Revolving on the spot, Sansa's eyes fell upon him then, standing up on the stairwell that must have led into Castle Black's main hall. He was staring back at her, his expression that of disbelief. Sansa watched as Jon stepped back from the railing he'd been holding onto, his footsteps leading him down the stairs and out into the courtyard to stand before her.

He could not believe she was there.

Of all the people to come through his gates, Sansa had been the last one he expected to see. But there she stood all the same, looking pale and thin, bruised and shaking in her dark gray cloak. For a moment he would not have believed such a girl was Sansa, for this was not the sister he remembered so well from childhood. But it was her Tully red hair and her piercing blue eyes that would always give her away. Jon came down the stairs, his steps directing him out into the open courtyard to stand before her, no words coming to his lips. She looked close to tears then, her breath catching in her throat a moment before she was lunging forward.

Jon caught her with ease, the weight of her body offering him a sense of comfort he'd not had in the days since his resurrection. He felt her face bury into his neck and Jon closed his eyes, his own breath caught in his lungs. He wanted to say something, anything, but found there were no words to say. He merely held onto her, knowing somehow, this was the reason he'd been brought back to life. Days ago, he'd thought there was nothing left to live for. His family was dead and his comrades betrayed him... And then he'd died in the snow of this very courtyard.

And yet, life was breathed back into his body and he could not come to a reason why. But now, Jon knew, that reason was in his arms. A moment later, he set her back onto her feet, steadying her as she stumbled. Jon could see it on her face that she was exhausted, near frozen almost, and probably starving. "Come on..." He murmured, offering her his arm then, smiling when she looked up at him with surprised features. But then she smiled too, a smile that didn't light up her face like it had once done, and he found himself longing to see the radiant smile she'd once put on display for all to see. She had been an easy going child who had smiled at the smallest of praises, always blushing to the roots of her lovely red hair. Jon missed that smile, he missed that Sansa. And he had to wonder just what had stolen it from her.

Sansa took the arm offered to her then, allowing him to lead her back towards the stairs he'd just come from. She stumbled once and it was then that Jon's arm instead slung around her waist, keeping her upright as they made their way up the stairs and into a darkened hall. "Light the fire," he said to a bearded man, an older man who looked at her with kind eyes and a smile, before he moved to do as Jon had commanded. "Let's get you warm." Jon put both of his hands upon her shoulders, looking into her Tully blue eyes, reaching out a hand when a tear began to slip free. His thumb caught it before it could fall and he pulled her back into another embrace, unable to help himself. He'd thought he'd lost them all... And yet, here she was. He could feel her shaking as she began to cry, noisy tears that shook her entire frame, tears that spoke to her broken heart. Jon held her long after the tears subsided, his own eyes closed against the tears threatening to fall from them.

Finally she raised her face from his shoulder, tear-stained and red, and Jon put a hand against her cheek. "I've missed you," she said softly, her cheeks full of color, her eyes bright against the pallor of her skin. "More than I can say." Jon bit his lower lip, nodding, knowing he felt the same. He had thought of her as often as he'd thought of the rest of them, especially in the years since Robb and their father's deaths. His hand slid from her cheek and he ushered her towards the now burning fire, pushing her gently into a chair before it, speaking of calling for both a bath and food for her. Sansa could not help but to smile, watching as Jon took command of the moment, calling for all the things he thought she might have needed. In truth, all she needed was him, but it was nice to know he cared.

It was hard to believe just a short time ago, she had worried about seeing Jon again, concerned he might turn her away. But as she watched him turn back to face her, their eyes met and suddenly she realized... Jon would never do that to her. She blinked, sitting up a little straighter, realizing how wrong she had been. Sansa knew now she would never have to worry about Jon turning his back on her. She could not help but to smile a little and she settled back, draped in his own furs now, finally growing warm once again. If even for just a moment... She felt safe.


	4. Chapter 5 - Family

"Robb, come back here this instant!"

Her cry fell on deaf ears though and Sansa could do nothing as she watched her oldest son race out the doors of Winterfell, his little brother on his heels, crying for him to wait for him. A sigh escaped her but she could not help but to smile, striding towards the window that overlooked the courtyard where they ran out into. Both of her boys stood among the young boys of the North, some who lived there was wards of the King and Queen, others just visiting while their fathers were here for a council meeting. Some even were the local boys from surrounding towns, there so they may have a better life than those of their own father's.

"Are they misbehaving again?"

Sansa turned at the sound of a voice, her lips curving with a smile. "Just yours," she replied, causing Jon to laugh as he came to stand beside her. It was true, their oldest son was Jon's perfect copy, every inch a Stark, not even a trace of his mother in him. Robb was four-years-old now and a handful, quite like his namesake, the uncle he would never know. Their younger son, Ned, named for his grandfather, was a bit more timid than his older brother but was easily convinced to misbehave. "He told me he was ready to swing an iron sword." She sighed, shaking her head as Jon slipped one arm around her waist, the other coming around to press against her curved abdomen. "And then Ned said he was as well." Jon laughed again and Sansa couldn't help but to as well, leaning in against him as they looked out at their children among the others, Jaime Lannister there at the head of the group.

It had been some years since Jaime had come to Winterfell, to pledge himself to her and to House Stark. He remained as loyal as he'd been back then, head of the Queen's guard and a shining knight to the starry-eyed boys of Winterfell that had grown up on stories of his battle prowess and strength. Brienne often joined him on days like these, teaching the young boys (and girls, if they wished it) the art of wielding a sword so they too could protect the North and the Seven Kingdoms if ever called upon. Sansa hoped they would never have to, after all they'd lived in peace all these years since... But she was not ignorant. She had grown up in a time of war after all and knew how easy peace could be shattered. However, she would always hope for peace. She couldn't imagine sending her precious sons off to war someday. Instinctively, her hands came to settle over Jon's still yet on her stomach, the child within her turning almost as if they knew their touch.

"Come sweetheart, you should be resting, not chasing the boys." Jon kept his arm around her but gently steered her away from the window, instead walking her down the corridors back towards their chambers. It was true, having birthed two children already, Sansa knew her time for this one was close. In fact she'd already felt the first pang of labor pain early that morning, though it had been one and done. Once within their rooms, Sansa allowed Jon to gently push her onto their bed, unable to help but to smile as he fawned over her. He always got like this at the end of her pregnancy and she found it to be quite endearing. When he was certain she was settled comfortably, he climbed into bed beside her, putting his head against her great belly, idly trailing his fingers across it; this had become a routine of theirs, back when she had first told him she was pregnant with Robb. Every night he would spend in her bed, he would put his ear to her stomach and just lay there, sometimes he would speak to the baby within her, other times he would just sleep there.

In that moment, she was suddenly thrust back into the past, back to a time when she'd bled the first time. She had been a prisoner in King's Landing back then and Cersei Lannister had told her of birthing and how her betrothed, Joffrey, would never show her devotion in child birth or pregnancy. Sansa had grown up thinking no man would ever care for her in the way Jon cared for her... She had grown up thinking no man would marry her for love but rather for her title alone. In truth, she'd grown up thinking she would never be happy or safe again. Jon had proven her wrong, time and time again. And for that, she was so thankful.

They had come so far since their reunion that snowy day back at Castle Black; that had been what, nearly five years ago now? So much had happened and so much had changed. The fight against the Night King had been won, but the fight for the Iron Throne had come next. In the end, two queens lay dead, and no one had known what to do next. Though it should have been Jon to sit upon the Iron Throne, it passed to Gendry, the last living Baratheon. Bastard or not, it was his to take, for Jon would not have it. After his crowning, Gendry did something no one had expected- he broke the North from his kingdom and crowned Jon once again as King in the North. From then on, he would rule his six kingdoms, and the North would remain in control of the Starks as it had been for thousands of years.

Not long after Jon's crowning, they had married; it had been a small ceremony in the godswood, without the pomp one usually associated with a royal wedding. And then, as they all knew, she was crowned a queen in her own right beside him, the first King and Queen in the North. She smiled, remembering back to those early days of marriage as winter came to an end and spring began again.

Suddenly, a twist in her belly had her sitting up, Jon raising his head to look up at her in concern. But she only smiled and reached out to touch his cheek, ever thankful to the man for restoring her faith back into a dark and cruel world. "They're coming," Sansa finally said softly, gesturing down at her belly as she felt another wave of pain, this one a bit stronger than the last. Jon was up then, rushing from the bed to the door, stumbling out of it in his haste to find someone. She could not help but to laugh at his expense before she settled back against her pillows, knowing the day might be long. But at the end, her family would become complete.

[ x x x ]

Their daughter came quick and easy, quite unlike the brothers that came before her. They named her Lyanna for the mother and aunt she and Jon had never known. She was a sweet little thing, with a tuft of auburn hair and blue eyes, every inch her mother's child. "She's perfect," Jon whispered for perhaps the hundreth time as he lay beside her in bed, the boys squished between them, peering over her shoulder at their sleeping daughter. He could not stop himself from occassionally stroking her petal soft cheek, marveling at how precious she was. He loved his boys, of course, but there was something much different about having a daughter. "Truly." Jon raised his face from his daughter for just a moment, to look at his wife beside him. He knew their daughter would grow into a beauty much like her and he would have to watch over her, to ensure she grew up happy and healthy. He would ensure that for all of their precious children. "I love you," he leaned in, capturing her mouth with his for just a moment, a kiss that he hoped told her everything that his words could not.

When Jon pulled back, he knew that it had for her eyes had filled with tears and she was smiling happily, then offering him the little bundle to take. Jon took the baby without a word, carefully maneuvering her until she lay perfectly against the crook of his elbow. It was Sansa's turn to peer down at her daughter, taking in the sight of her tiny rosebud mouth, of her soft reddish hair, knowing this was her and Jon's own creation. Her hand reached out to touch the heads of her two sleeping boys, their curls soft beneath her fingertips, and her heart was so very full that she thought it might burst. How was it that only a few years before she had thought she'd never be happy again? And now she was here. She had once thought she had nothing left to live for, she had almost given up. And now she had everything to live for.

Her family had once been broken apart and torn to pieces; but she'd collected those pieces back together with Jon, Arya, and Bran... And now these three precious little lives that Jon had helped to give her. Sansa smiled and leaned down to brush a soft kiss to her baby's temple, knowing she would never be happier than she was right then.


	5. Chapter 5 - Rain, Sunshine, Storm

When she woke from her nightmare, it was to the crash of thunder.

Sitting up, the blankets clutched to her chest, she stared out into the darkness of the room before it lit up with a flash of lightning. Her heart was racing, anxiety rushing through her in waves, prickling her exposed skin. Rising up from the bed, she tiptoed across the room to stand at the window, peering out into the night. Rain lashed against the glass, making it hard to see, though she knew it was hours before the morning call. A chill settled into the pit of her stomach, wrapping her arms around herself as she did her best to calm her nerves.

The dream had been awful, as they always were. This one had been of Ramsay- with his wild eyes and violent hands. She shuddered, thinking back to the way it had felt to have him knock her to the ground, to how it felt when he threw her onto his bed... Tears filled her eyes and she willed them away, lids falling closed as she pressed her forehead against the cool glass, wishing with all of her might that she were stronger.

"Sansa?"

She jumped at the sound of the voice, the thunder following seconds later. Turning, she found herself facing Jon, who she'd left sleeping in bed. "I'm sorry, I woke you..." She apologized softly, turning back to face the window so he'd not catch sight of her face. The last thing she wanted to do was worry him over a stupid nightmare, not when he had so many other things to think about. But she should have known better, for it was only a moment later that she felt his hand on her arm, gently turning her back around to face him. Their eyes met as the lightning flared and his expression softened as he took in the sight of her broken features, her blue eyes misty. A moment later he pulled her into his arms, his skin warm against her own as she began to cry.

The tears just would not stop, no matter how hard she tried. Much like the storm that raged outside their door, the storm raged within her. Despite the time that had passed since Ramsay had even last drew a breath... Sometimes the pain of it all hit her without warning. Sometimes the ghosts she'd thought she'd left behind caught back up.

He held fast to her; Jon knew it was not so often that she woke like this anymore, which told him it had been a truly awful nightmare. He had always known of her night terrors back when they'd first found one another again, but as time had gone on she'd slowly regained control. She'd finally begun to heal from all that had happened to her. But like all demons did, they sometimes came back to haunt you. Jon knew that better than anyone. Did he not still drea of the boy he'd hanged earlier that year? Did he not still think of the innocent slaughtered in the war for the Iron Throne? Did he still not yet have dreams of white walkers and the Night King? What she had suffered had been so much more than any of that... It still yet angered him, thinking of all she'd been through. In truth, Jon was certain he'd never rage when thinking of her back then, used and abused by everyone around her. The fact that she had overcome any of the things she had suffered was a true testament to the strength she held within. And that was just one of the many things he loved about her.

When it finally felt as if she could cry no more, Sansa raised her head from Jon's shoulder and sniffled, softly apologizing once again. That was when Jon cupped her beautiful, but tear-stained face between his palms and smiled. "Don't apologize, sweetheart." He murmured, dipping his forehead down to meet hers, his lips brushing hers in a soft, but tender way. "Come back to bed." He encouraged then, taking her by the hand to lead her back to their shared bed, their marriage bed. It was new to them still, less than a month in fact, and sometimes it still yet felt strange to say. As he drew her back beneath the blankets, he rolled onto his side so he could still yet hold onto her, as always marveled by how perfectly she seemed to fit against him. "In the morning the sun will shine again, you will see." He whispered against the shell of her ear, reminding her that this storm too would pass, as they always did. She smiled as she settled against him, knowing he was right.

[ x x x ]

When she woke that next morning, it was to the sunshine pouring in through the open window. Jon had woke and gone for the day already, leaving her to sleep a little while longer in the bed they shared. She could not help but to smile as she rose from the bed, pulling on her dressing gown as she returned to stand at the window, looking out into the sunny courtyard.

And there he stood, already in deep conversation with a few of the Northern lords who had come to call upon them this day. Sansa smiled as she watched him gesture towards the stables and then nod, perhaps talking about the number of horses they'd been sent by Lyanna Mormont, the first lady to have called for Jon's crowning as King of the Iron Throne. As she had stood behind him as King in the North, she stood behind him now. The two men bowed then, turning from Jon to return into Winterfell's walls, where they would gather with the others who would begin arriving throughout the next hour. Sansa knew she had to dress and ready herself for the council meeting, knowing there was much to prepare before they departed for King's Landing next month.

It was then that Jon turned up to look at her, perhaps sensing her eyes upon him. His face broke out in a grin, his hand raised in a greeting. She returned his smile and wondered for just a moment how she'd become so lucky in life. There had once been a time where she thought she'd never be happy again, that she would never feel the warmth of the sun on her skin. But, it was as Jon had said... The sun would always shine again.


	6. Chapter 6 - Leisure

He could not remember a time when there was not a fight to be fought, nor work of some kind to be done. He could not recall a time where he'd slept so soundly all night, well past the morning call. But such a day had come and Jon could hardly believe it when he finally woke for the day, winter sunlight streaming in through the slightly parted curtains. Blinking against the bright rays, he propped himself up onto an elbow, gazing out at the chamber, remembering only then he was not in his own.

Sitting up, he looked to his right, smiling as he took in the sight of the sleeping form beside him. He could not stop himself from reaching out, trailing his fingertips along the soft skin of her arm. Beneath his touch she shifted, rosy lips parting with the softest groan as she came back to the waking world. As her blue eyes opened, they fell onto his face and those same lips curved with a smile. "You're still here," she observed as she sat up, clutching the furs close to her chest, reminding Jon that she was bare beneath the blankets. "I thought you might go before..." She was cut off as Jon's mouth captured hers, one hand sliding into her messy red hair, the other snaking around to press into the small of her back. Her skin was warm against his palm, reminding him of the night before and how warm every inch of her had been.

"Of course I am," he replied when he pulled back just enough to brush his mouth across her jawline, the hand at her back wandering further up, tracing the slight curve of her spine as she arched her back against his touch. "Where else would I have gone?" Her hair was sweet smelling as he buried his face into it, the long red strands slipping through his fingers like silk. Jon knew what she meant of course, that he'd have gone before morning call, so they might not be discovered together in such a way. King or not, he supposed he should have some tact for her reputation. They were doing their best to keep the knowledge of their relationship at a minimum- not from shame, but propriety. They had only just finished burying the dead from the war with the Night King and the Iron Throne, more close friends lost to death. And well... It was still settling with everyone about Jon's true heritage. Some would never be able to see him as anything but the bastard of Ned Stark and might speak ill when they learned who he meant to take as a wife and queen. _Let them talk, _Sansa had whispered the night before, when her mouth had trailed red hot kisses against his skin. _They'll always talk. _But he cared for her reputation and he knew she did too, even if in a moment of passion she'd said otherwise.

But... When morning came, he'd just not been able to untangle himself from her. He knew without a doubt he would marry her come spring, so why did it matter when the only ones in Winterfell were those who would never judge? And so when Brienne had quietly come into the room at dawn to light a fire in the hearth, Jon made no move to hide himself in her bed, but rather slung an arm across the woman he loved and went back to sleep. "I thought you had a council meeting this afternoon." Sansa's voice brought him back and Jon raised his face from her hair to look into her blue eyes, though he could feel her hand ghosting across his thigh beneath the blankets.

"I think I am ill," came his quick response, yet again leaning in so he could kiss her, this one long and passionate, so much so that he could feel her sinking into him. "I should much rather spend my day in bed, wouldn't you?" He asked as he drew back with a grin, watching as her expression became one of mischievousness. . Her only response was to kiss him, her other hand sliding into his dark curls, threading her fingers between them. Jon was more than happy to spend every moment like this, every leisurely moment spent in bed with her would be better than any other moment ever could be. And so in bed they would certainly stay, locked in each other's arms, happier than they had been in what felt like forever.


	7. Chapter 7 - Letters

_Jon,_

_ You won't believe it, but Bran and Arya have come home! They are back in Winterfell where they belong. I am so thankful to have them both back. So many things are happening, I wish you were here. The Lords are growing restless the longer you're gone, though I am doing my best to calm their tempers. I think they fear what Daernerys will do to you or even convince you to do. Never fear, I've told no one the truth... I should die before that. But I miss you Jon, I do wish you would come home to me soon... Please, write back so I at least know you are well. _

_Always yours,_

_Sansa. _

[ x x x ]

_Sansa,_

_ I wish I could write you more often, but I'm starting to worry about these letters being intercepted. The last thing I'd want to do would be put you in more danger... But I miss you, I miss you more than any words could ever express. I wish I were home, with you... With Arya and with Bran. I'm glad to hear they've both come back to Winterfell where they belong. I promise I will be home soon and I will defeat the Night King. I know you always say I cannot protect you, but I swear that I will. I swear I will always protect you and our home and our family. I meant what I said the night I left. Don't ever forget that. _

_Jon_

[ x x x ]

_Jon,_

_ I can't tell you how happy I was when the raven came with your letter. I was beginning to think I'd have to send an army of my own to Dragonstone and fetch you home. I hope you are safe... Rumors are coming from King's Landing. It's being said that Cersei is pregnant and I have heard whispers of my name from the South. I have not forgotten our first enemy is the army of the dead, but do not forget there is another one that always looms overhead. She will not rest until she has what she wants. I'm not frightened, not when I have Arya here... You will be so proud of her when you see her again. She is not the same little sister we knew, though sometimes I still can see who she used to be inside of her. Bran too, he's changed even more than Arya. _

_I wish you were here... Truly._

_Sansa_

[ x x x ]

_Jon,_

_ Please come home... I need you. All is mostly well, I cast judgment for the first time and though father always said "the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword" Arya would not allow it. "A lady must not bloody her hands" she told me. I never told her the truth of Ramsay, so she doesn't know what I've done before. No matter... Though I suspect you are busy with negotiations with Daenerys, it's been so long since you last wrote. It is late night and I cannot sleep, I keep dreaming of you and dragon fire. I am worried for you. Please, just write to me and let me know you are well, that you are safe. I have something to tell you when you return. So please, come back to me when you can. _

_Yours,_

_Sansa_

[ x x x ]

_Sansa,_

_ Sweetheart, I'm sorry I've not written, you were right I've been busy with negotiations. But I'm happy to tell you all has been solved. Or so I hope. I will return to you soon. Prepare Winterfell for the arrival of a queen, I know you know well what that means. I am counting on you to hold up your end of the plan. I cannot wait to hold you in my arms again. _

_Jon. _


	8. Chapter 8 - Songs & Wolves

It was as he approached the door to her chambers that he heard it, the soft singing behind the wood. Jon could not help but to smile, his heart fluttering as he thought of her inside, softly singing to herself as she brushed Ghost or perhaps just stroked his white fur. Quietly as he could, he pushed the door open a crack, just so he could peak inside at her without her knowing.

Sure enough, she was seated on the floor before the fire, black skirts gathered all around her as she brushed Ghost's thick fur. For a moment, he was plunged deep into a memory, one of her when they had been nothing but children... One of her brushing Lady and singing the same song she sang now. A childhood song he had heard Catelyn Stark singing to the younger children throughout the years. When he pulled himself free from the memory, Jon was grinning. It was only then that he slipped into the room, catching the door before it closed too loudly, though Ghost's keen ear tipped him off and a moment later the singing stopped as Sansa turned to see him there. "Don't stop on my account," he laughed as he dropped down to the floor beside her, reaching out to ruffle the fur she'd been so lovingly brushing. "I haven't heard you sing in years."

Sansa's face broke out into a wide smile as she pushed his hand away, returning the brush to Ghost's fur, fixing what he had messed up. "I'm practicing," she admitted with a soft chuckle, leaning in as Jon's hand pressed against her curved belly. "My mother used to sing to us every night," she said quietly, tilting her head as she smiled through the memory. "I would hope someday they remember me singing to them, too." Her other hand slid into place over Jon's and beneath their palms, they both felt their child moving. A promise of what was to come.

"They will," Jon assures her, leaning in to press a kiss against her temple. "Now, it's time to eat, don't you think?" He gets to his feet, extending out a hand for her to take. "Can you get up, sweetheart?" He teases, though he helps her onto her own feet with ease and she gives him a good natured hit to the arm for his words. Ghost prances around their feet as they make their way across the room and down towards the great hall, where they would share perhaps what would be the final supper without a babe to join them.

[ x x x ]

This time as he approaches the rooms, he stops at the door, smiling faintly when he hears her voice coming from within. He opens the door an inch and sees her there at the window, cradling their newborn son, singing that same lullaby she'd once only sang to Ghost. The wolf laid at her feet, his great head resting upon his paws, though his eyes remained wide open. It was as if the wolf was truly listening to every word that Sansa sang.

As he entered, she continued singing, her voice soft but strong as she sang their son to sleep. "He loves your singing," Jon said as she lay the babe in his cradle, her song coming to an end a moment before he spoke. "As I knew he would." She smiled and nodded, gently brushing her fingers along their son's soft, downy hair. "You will never believe what has been found in the woods today," she turned up to look at him then, surprise forcing a perfectly sculpted brow up. "Wolves." Her eyes widened and then she blinked, stepping away from the cradle, which Ghost had gone to lay beneath, as he'd begun to do from the day of the baby's birth.

"Wolves?" She echoed, reaching up to brush a lock of hair from her face. "Direwolves?"

Jon nodded. "An entire pack. Half breeds, some, but a few true direwolves were spotted along the wall, well what's left of it that is. It would seem Nymeria has been busy." He watches as her face softens, her memory returning to the litter of wolves she and the others had raised and lost over the years. "The lone wolf dies..."

"But the pack survives." She smiles with a nod, falling into his arms as he reaches for her. The pack always survived. Always.


	9. Chapter 9 - Soulmates

She has tasted love before, but only for a moment; it was as fleeting as it was beautiful, something other worldly. Something too pure for her to touch, too perfect for her to hold onto. But even just a moment of it was enough to fill her up, to make her whole once again.

Love was the way he spoke her name when they were alone. Love was the way it felt when he slipped his arms around her. Love was the way his eyes darkened when he spoke of protecting her from those who would do her harm. Love was fighting with him, breath catching, heart hammering fights that left them not angry but longing for more. Love was pushing each other to the edge, but always being there to catch the other when they fell.

Jon was love and love was Jon.

She would have followed him to the ends of the world and back again, if he had only asked. And he would have fetched her the moon and the sun and the stars from the very sky, if she had only wished it. She knows the depth of his feelings though he's never spoken them aloud, she simply knows. He was always one step behind her, always in the line of fire of narrow, violet eyes. He was always there at her side when doubt filled her mind, reminding her that in the end, their paths always collided. Every time she thought they drifted apart, he was there to remind her they were even closer than ever before. Every time she thought he loved another above her, he was there to remind her that it was she that he adored, even if it was in secret. Soul mates, one might call it, though she isn't sure. This life was the only one she had yet to live, so she knew not if they had met before, though sometimes it felt so.

The sound of her name returns her to the present and she turns, smiling when she finds him standing there in her room. As if all her thoughts of him had conjured him to her side, he stood there as if it was where he was meant to be. And it was. There was no place for him but beside her, through it all, to the ends of this life and into the next, it would be where he always stood.

_Soul mates, _she thought with a soft chuckle as she fell into his arms, _perhaps so. _


End file.
